


A First Date with Mr. Right

by Magfreak



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magfreak/pseuds/Magfreak
Summary: Sybil Crawley has had a crush on Tom Branson for two years but has not acted on it. Luck and Mother Nature intervene.





	1. The bad date

 

Mary almost laughed when she saw the picture of her sister flash up on her phone.

"It's not even 8 o'clock, Sybil. This has to be a personal best."

Sybil sighed on the other end. "I know. I know. I am absolute rubbish on first dates. It's these ridiculous wankers you and Edith insist on setting me up with."

"So what happened?"

"We met at 6:30 for a drink, then we walked over to that gallery you mentioned, and the show was called 'Nudes in the Public Sphere.' We ended up getting into an argument about the male gaze and misogyny in contemporary art, and that led to an argument about misogyny in general and let's just say we agreed to disagree and then he went home."

"Sybil you need to stop—"

"Stop what?! Being a feminist?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "No! You need to stop trying to have 10th date conversations on first dates."

"Mary, I work at a clinic that serves sex workers. It's hard to avoid the topic when 'What do you do?' is like the third question they ask."

"Well, I'm sorry it went south, but I have to go. Matthew's gone to get drinks, and he'll be back any minute and the performance will start soon."

"I know I've interrupted your anniversary date, and I wouldn't have just to tell you my date was awful. I actually need a favor."

"Now?"

"I've locked myself out of my flat."

"Oh, Sybil."

"Can I stay at yours tonight?"

"I'm sorry, darling. Normally I would say yes, but it's our anniversary night."

"You can't go to his place?"

"I have everything arranged for when we get back. Besides, you know well he has a flatmate."

"Ugh. You're right. I'm sorry."

"Why don't you just call a locksmith or Gwen?"

"Gwen is at a conference, and I tried the building superintendent, but he's not answering. He asks that we call him first for repairs, but then he disappears on weekends."

Mary thought for a moment. "Well, mum and dad's is being remodeled so that's out." She paused, not sure how Sybil would take her next suggestion. "You could stay at Matthew's."

"Didn't you just say 'you know who' is going to be there?"

"Sybil, he's not Voldemort."

"Yes, but you know how I feel about him."

"I do, and frankly, I think that's the reason you can't get past a first date with anyone."

"How do I know he'll even be there to let me in?"

"Just call him. You have his number."

Sybil bit her lip. "Would _you_ call him?"

"Sybil, you're twenty-four years old, are you still so scared of talking to boys you like? Matthew's here now, I _have_ to go."

"You're right. I'll call. Have a wonderful evening and happy anniversary!"

"Thank you. We'll talk in the morning, darling."

"Right. Cheers."

Sybil ended the call and stared at her phone for a good long minute. Finally, she summoned as much courage as she could and went into her contacts. She scrolled through until she found the entry "Mr. Right."

Sybil laughed at herself, remembering the night she'd saved Tom Branson's number like it was yesterday, even though it was actually almost two years ago.

Mary and Matthew had just started going out. Matthew and Tom were having a party at their flat, and Sybil, in her last year of uni, arrived early with Mary, whom she was visiting for the weekend. Matthew and Mary were still in the honeymoon phase, so they disappeared to Matthew's room, and for the next hour before any other guests arrived, Tom and Sybil chatted about life in London, what it would be like for her after graduation, their favorite books, the various places in the world they wanted to travel and their mutual closet addiction to EastEnders. Emboldened by how well they were getting on, Sybil ventured to ask if he wanted to hang out sometime when she was done with school in a few months and living in London full-time. She could have sworn she saw the "yes" in his eyes, but before anything came out of his mouth, the bell rang.

It was his girlfriend.

Gutted by that awkward introduction ("Edna, this is Mary's little sister.") and a bit overwhelmed by all the people so much older and more sophisticated than she was feeling at that moment, Sybil ended up sneaking out of the party early without telling Mary, knowing her sister would try to talk her out of it. Shortly after she'd arrived back at Mary's, Sybil's phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway. It was Mary calling—on Tom's phone because hers had died—to make sure she was OK.

So she saved the number and labeled it "Mr. Right," not caring about the silliness of it. In the intervening years, she and Tom had seen one another plenty of times, given Matthew and Mary's ongoing relationship. He was sweet and funny to her, but she was always nervous and shy around him—no matter how much more confident and self-assured she'd grown to be in just about every other aspect of her life. Only Mary knew of the long-standing crush Sybil harbored.

Sybil seriously considered just staying on the stoop on the outside of her building all night, but the clouds that had been hovering over London all day decided at that moment to turn into rain. Sybil ran under the awning and, feeling cornered by mother nature, she finally tapped her phone to call him.

After several rings, he answered. "Hello?"

"Um, hi, Tom. It's Sybil . . . Sybil Crawley. I'm Mary's—"

"Sybil, I know who you are," he said with an easy laugh.

"Um, OK."

"Were you looking for Mary? Because she and Matthew are at the opera, I think."

"I know. I just spoke with her. I was calling you because I was wondering . . . would it be OK if I popped by? I've locked myself out of my flat, and don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Of course. Do you need a ride? I'm out at the moment so I could come get you."

"Oh, I'm sorry! It's Saturday night. I shouldn't have assumed you'd be in. I—"

"Don't worry, you haven't interrupted me doing anything interesting. I'm just at the grocery. Text me where you are and I'll be by soon, OK?"

Sybil felt her face starting to flush at his concern. "OK."

Sybil hung up the phone, texted him the address and then took a deep breath.

_No backing out now._

About twenty minutes later, the rain was still pouring, so Sybil didn't notice his car pull up, or him getting out and running up to where she was sitting against the door under the awning until he was practically standing over her.

"Branson White Knight Taxi Service here to pick up one Sybil Crawley?"

Sybil looked up. He was holding an umbrella and wearing his usual disarming smile.

_Stop being perfect!_

"Hi," she said, slipping her hand into his, which he'd held out to help her up. "I'm so sorry about this. Apparently, my list of friends to contact in case of an emergency is rather short. I hate to bother you."

"No worries, but I will say I'm a bit insulted to hear I'm not the first person you called."

Sybil could not help but look at him skeptically, and his smile widened.

"Why do you like to tease me?" She asked.

"Because it's fun," he said with a laugh. "Come on, before we catch pneumonia."

**XXX**

"Here."

Sybil turned to Tom, who was coming back out of his room and holding out a T-shirt and sweats for her to change into.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

She went into Matthew's room to change. When she came back out into the living room again, Tom, in the kitchen putting away his groceries, asked. "What were you all dressed up for?"

"A date."

Tom's brow furrowed, and he looked over to the clock on the wall. "It's 8:30. I take it he wasn't Mr. Right?"

Sybil bit her lip. "No."

"Want to talk about it?"

Sybil came into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast table. "Not really. It was just a first date, so my heart's not breaking or anything. I just wish I didn't always find a way to mess things up."

"What makes you think it was your fault?"

Sybil shrugged. "I've been on a lot of first dates, a statement that rather explains itself."

Tom smiled. "Maybe you need someone to give you notes."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll go on a date with you, and then offer a critique."

Sybil's heart started to beat faster, and she brought her hand to her face to try to hide the blush she could feel coming on. "Um, you and I going on a date?"

"Sure. We could do it right now, in fact."

Sybil looked down to see what she was wearing, black sweats and a faded Darth Vader T-shirt. "Are you mad?"

Tom laughed. He walked over to the pantry, took out a bottle of red wine, grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard and brought them over to the table. Sybil watched him as he opened the bottle and poured each of them a glass. He sat down in front of her and pushed a glass in her direction.

"So, here we are," he said, trying to keep a straight face, but mostly failing. "Tom and Sybil's first date."

"You _are_ mad," she said taking a sip of her wine, but unable to repress her smile.

"First note: It's not a good idea to insult the man you're with right off the bat."

Sybil laughed and took another sip of wine. "OK. Are we pretending we don't know each other?"

"That's up to you."

"Well, I would rather skip having to 'introduce' myself if you don't mind. I'm a bit too tired to be extra charming."

"Good. I prefer you ornery anyway," he said.

Sybil picked up the wine cork and threw it at him.

"That's what I'm talking about," he said with a wink. "But let's get back on track here. This is the real you and the real me going on a first date."

Sybil took another sip, needing the liquid courage. "All right, then."

"So, where did this bloke take you on the date you were out on earlier?"

"Am I allowed to give notes too? Because discussing romantic history is really kind of a no-no on a first date isn't it?"

Tom laughed. "I suppose you're right. I'm a bit rusty at this myself."

"When was the last time you went out on a date?"

"Doesn't that question violate the no discussing romantic history rule?"

"Fair enough. So what do you want to talk about?"

Tom looked at her for a long time in a way that made her blush slightly.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Do you remember the night we first met?"

"Ye-es," she replied, drawing out the word a bit nervously.

"You asked me out that night," he said a small smile on his lips.

Sybil looked down, unable to meet his eyes, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "As I recall," she said, "you had a girlfriend at the time."

"Yeah. She and I ended things a few months after that. When you moved here, I sort of thought you would ask again."

Sybil took a long sip of her wine to give herself time to think about how she could answer. This was the last thing she had ever expected to talk with him about.

"I guess I lost my nerve," she said finally. "I was a bit braver when I was a student than I am now."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "I doubt that."

"Maybe I'll feel different when we finish this wine," Sybil said, trying to muster her courage so she could flirt back. _He is flirting, right?_

"Well, then let's drink!" He said enthusiastically.

Sybil laughed. _Yes_ , _he is._

Tom lifted up his glass toward her.

"What are we toasting to?" She asked.

"Your terrible date this evening."

"Why _that_?" She asked a bit miffed.

"If he hadn't been rubbish, you wouldn't be here right now, and I would be sitting on the couch alone wondering what I am going to do when Matthew moves out."

"What do you mean when Matthew moves out?"

"Bollocks," Tom said to himself, putting his glass down.

"What!? Do you know something I don't? Tell me!"

Tom sighed. "Let's just say the next time Mary calls you she's going to have big news."

"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Sibyl screamed. "Mary's getting engaged?"

Tom laughed. "Unless he chickens out."

"To Larry Grey and to Mary and Matthew," she said lifting her glass.

Tom picked his back up and clinked hers. "And to us."

Sybil smiled and drank.

The news of her sister's impending engagement effectively calmed Sybil's nerves, and she and Tom continued to chat about anything and everything until they finished the bottle of wine. After they finished a second, they both realized neither one had eaten a proper dinner. Tom volunteered to go to the chip shop around the corner for takeaway. While he was gone Sybil, enjoying her buzz, walked around the apartment and looked at the pictures Tom and Matthew had up around their living room. There were some of the two of them from university, including one from their graduation. There were a number with Mary. There were even a couple that included Sybil herself. It made her feel good. Like he and Matthew really saw her as a friend, and not just Mary's little sister who happened to be around a lot.

When Tom returned, they sat down on the floor of the living room and continued talking as they ate. Had Sibyl not stopped thinking about it as a first date, she would've realized that it was the best one she had ever been on.

**XXX**

"Hmmm, that was delicious," Sybil said after taking her last bite. "I can't remember the last time I ate fish and chips."

"I can only imagine that you didn't have them often growing up. I remember the first time Mary was over, and I suggested ordering some. She looked at me like I had two heads."

Sybil laughed. "I have to say fried is not my mother's favorite fish presentation."

Tom smirked. "I would ask why except you just used the word 'presentation' when talking about food."

"It was certainly not an easygoing household as far as the dinner table was concerned."

"You _are_ the daughter of an earl."

"The funny thing is," she said, "the _earl_ loves fried food. Once in New York, my grandmother took us to a soul food restaurant, and my father had fried chicken and macaroni and cheese for the first time. I swear he was a kid at Disneyland."

"I can't say I was brought up eating particularly posh food," Tom said. "But mam was a great cook."

He looked over at Sybil after a quiet moment and raised his eyebrows. "Are you in the mood for dessert?"

"What kind of desert?" She asked seeming a bit skeptical.

"Wait right here," he said, then stood and headed to the kitchen. After a few minutes and after hearing the blender, Sybil watched him come back and sit down again with a tall glass of what looked like a chocolate milkshake and two spoons.

"Unfortunately," he said, "there was only enough left for one so we'll have to share."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just taste it," he said.

Sybil took one of the spoons and slipped it into her mouth. "Oh, my god! That's heaven!"

Tom smiled, taking the other spoon.

"What's in it?"

"Chocolate ice cream, Baileys and vanilla-infused vodka."

Sybil took another spoonful and let out a sound that could only be described as orgasmic—which made him blush a little.

"You like it, then?" Tom asked.

"Like it? I think it's the key to eternal happiness."

Tom laughed.

"It figures it would be you who would find it for me," she said.

"It does?"

Sybil looked up at him realizing what she had just said and shrugged her shoulders with a small smile. He smiled back, but didn't say anything else. They continued eating until they'd finished the milkshake. He stood, taking the now empty glass and headed back to the kitchen. She stood to follow him, unsure of how exactly the mood had changed between them.

"How did it get to be so close to midnight?" She asked as he stood over the sink rinsing the glass.

"Time flies when you're having fun." He turned off the faucet and turned back to her. "Come on, I'll get you fresh sheets."

After they'd changed over Matthew's bed, Sybil sat down on the edge and leaned over to turn on the lamp.

Tom, leaning on the doorjamb, asked "Do you need anything else?"

"I think I'm good," she said quietly.

He smiled. "Well, good night, then."

He turned off the light, leaving her in the soft glow of Matthew's reading lamp, then turned to go.

"Tom?"

He turned again and stepped back into the room.

She took a deep breath. "If I asked you out again, what would you say?"

He smiled sheepishly and sat down next to her on the bed. "A second date?"

"This wasn't a really a first date, was it?"

"Of course, it was," He said leaning his shoulder against hers.

"I don't remember getting a first date kiss," she whispered.

Tom brought his hand up to her face. Sybil's eyes closed in anticipation and she leaned in slightly, causing Tom's smile to widen. Finally, he closed the distance between them and their lips came together in a light, soft kiss. As it deepened, Sybil brought her hands up to his chest and ran them up to his neck pulling him closer. Tom pulled away and brought his lips to her neck kissing from the back of her left ear down to her collarbone. Sybil leaned back onto the bed, bringing him with her. Their lips met again as Tom shifted over her. Her hands moved down his back to his waist. She grabbed the ends of his shirt and started pulling up. He rolled over to his side and pulled away long enough to let her slip his shirt off. Feeling braver—and friskier—than she'd ever felt, her skin humming under his touch, Sybil pushed him down and rolled on top of him, causing him to laugh slightly. She pulled off the borrowed T-shirt revealing her bare breasts.

Tom somehow managed not to take his eyes off of hers, and she smiled. "It's OK if you look at them, you know," she said with a laugh.

He laughed and looked down for a moment, before looking back up to her eyes again. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

She leaned back down, and he wrapped his arms around her, capturing her lips in another kiss.

After a few minutes, she pulled away slightly, "Won't Matthew mind?"

"We'll change the sheets again after," he said, kissing along her jawline. "Why, are you going to tell him?"

Sybil laughed and leaned in again, but this time, he stopped her.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I usually don't on the first date, but I'm making an exception for you."

"Thank you," he said with a soft smile.

She smiled, cheekily. "Do you have any notes?"

"For the foreseeable future, don't go on any dates that aren't with me."


	2. Gorgeous

 

Sybil had been sleeping so soundly (something of a rarity for her) that it took her a few minutes to realize she was in a room, in a bed, she did not recognize. She was aware of the light sound of fingers tapping over a keyboard for a moment or two before she realized what it was. Having been laying on her stomach, she pushed herself up and turned toward where the sound was coming from. In the only lighted corner of the room, Tom was sitting at his desk, the light emanating from his laptop was just enough that Sybil could see the frown of concentration on his face, now framed by black-rimmed glasses she'd seen him wear only one other time.

Still foggy from sleep, she smiled at the image. This was certainly not how she'd expected this night to end when she stepped out of her flat earlier in the evening. The date she'd been on couldn't have gone worse, but given where the night had ultimately taken her, it would be fair to say it couldn't have gone better. Here she was with the man she'd been fantasizing about for the better part of two years, having enjoyed sex that was equal parts frantic and playful and fun—surprisingly better than she'd allowed herself to imagine. She wasn't sure what would happen between them now, despite what they'd said about going on future "dates," which was perhaps why Sybil was content lie back down on the bed, hug her pillow into herself and watch him type away. She might have watched him all night if he hadn't looked back to check on her (which he had been doing periodically) after a few minutes.

"You're awake," he said quietly.

Sybil smiled shyly and nodded.

"Have you been up for a while?" He asked turning toward her in his office chair, which revealed to Sybil that he'd put his boxers back on but nothing else.

"Just a few minutes. I was a bit disoriented at first. This is your room, I take it?"

He nodded and cast his eyes downward in a bit of embarrassment. "I hope that's OK."

"Yeah," she said quickly. "No bother, I . . . I'd just never been in here before."

"You haven't?"

"No."

Tom stood up and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. "Well, I'm glad you're here now."

Sybil sat up slightly, hugging the sheets to her still naked body. "Me, too."

The pair looked at one another for a moment, neither sure what to say next. Finally Sybil asked, "So how did I get here, exactly?"

"I carried you from Matthew's bed."

Sybil bit her lip, trying to contain her smile and grateful for the darkness that was hiding the blush she felt rising into her cheeks as she thought of what they'd done on Matthew's bed.

Tom laughed softly. "After we, um . . . well, you know . . . we both fell asleep. I woke up a half-hour or so later and brought you over here, then went back to change his sheets _again_ "—Sybil snickered at this—"then I pulled the covers over you and was a bit too wired to sleep, so I sat down to write for a bit."

"Do you want to keep going. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Tom smiled. "No, I'm glad you're awake. I actually made a bit of noise getting you in here, hoping to wake you, but yours was a determined slumber, so . . . "

"It's your own fault, I'm afraid. I'm not usually a sound sleeper."

"I'll take that as a compliment, then," he said with a soft laugh.

"You should," Sybil said, a sparkle in her eyes, Tom hadn't ever seen before. "What time is it?"

"About 2 in the morning," he answered. "If you'd like, you can go back to Matthew's room."

Sybil's brow furrowed. "Do _you_ want me to go back to Matthew's room?"

"No!" They both laughed at his exclamation. "I just mean . . . no pressure or anything."

"I don't feel any," she said simply.

"Good."

They smiled at one another again.

"I like your glasses," she said.

"Oh," Tom said, moving his hands to his face. "I forgot I had them on."

"Do you always wear them when you're writing?"

"I'm supposed to—that and for reading." He took them off and looked at them in his hands. "They're a bit nerdy."

Sybil smiled. "That's why I like them."

"Well, in that case," he slid them back on and grinned, causing her to laugh.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, standing up. He walked over to his desk and picked up his mobile. He tapped on it for a minute then handed it to Sybil, sitting down on the bed again. On the screen now, there was a photo of Matthew and a red-eyed Mary that they'd obviously taken themselves. Mary's face was partly obscured by her hand, which was now adorned by a beautiful diamond ring.

"Aw!" Sybil sighed. "That's wonderful! I wonder if she messaged me?"

"I can get your phone if you like," he offered.

"It's probably in the kitchen somewhere. I don't remember where I left it."

"I'll call it," he said taking his back and scrolling through his recent calls to find her number. A minute later her ringtone could be heard. "Wait right here," Tom said with a smile.

It was probably a mix of the sleepiness and the joy of being with him that caused Sybil to forget momentarily what he'd see on the screen when he picked it up— _Mr. Right calling._

Then she remembered.

"WAIT!" She practically leapt of the bed and, picked up the first shirt she could see on the floor and ran out into the apartment after him. "Tom, wait!"

It was too late.

As soon as she walked into the kitchen, there was Tom staring at the ringing phone. From his boxers, which she could now see had four-leaf clovers on them, to his glasses, to the way his hair was still going every which way after her hands had tugged on it as he'd gone down on her, to the bewildered deer-in-the-headlights expression now on his face, Sybil couldn't have loved him more in that moment.

But she also couldn't have wished harder that the earth swallow her up whole.

"Tom," she started quietly. "Before you think I'm some sort of nutter. I did that years ago as a joke. I don't actually . . ."

He finally looked up. "You don't actually think I'm Mr. Right?"

Sybil opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. She tugged on the ends of the T-shirt she'd thrown on, not really sure what she could say or do that would make her feel less mortified.

"Why not?"

Sybil blinked a few times, unsure as to whether she had heard him right and even more unsure as to his meaning. "Um . . . what?"

"Why don't you think I'm Mr. Right anymore?" He asked walking toward her, his mobile in one hand and hers, which had now stopped ringing, in the other.

Sybil looked down and tucked her hair behind her ear with her right hand. "Since it's out there . . . I guess . . . well . . ." She looked back up at him again. "I do think it. I just, um, I don't want you to think I'm weird for thinking it, that's all."

Tom let out a hearty laugh.

Sybil's shoulders sank and she looked down again. "You don't have a to laugh at me," she said, taking her mobile from his hand.

"I'm not," he said quietly. After a few seconds, he added, "Ring me."

"What?"

"You ring _me_."

Confused, Sybil went to her most recent missed call and tapped the device to redial. A second later, his began to buzz in his hand and he held the screen up for her to see.

_Gorgeous calling._

Sybil's eyes, wide with shock, slowly went from the phone to his face. Ever so slowly, a smile spread over her face. "Really?" She whispered.

"Yeah."

Both mobiles landed with a clatter on the floor. But Tom and Sybil were already too deep into their kiss to notice or care. His hands went quickly to her backside and in one quick motion she was in his arms, legs wrapped around him.

He carried her into his room again, except this time, she was awake and ready.


	3. Mary (and Matthew's) Wedding

**One year later**

It was a combination of the sound of the shower and the pounding of his head that woke Tom up. He looked around his room, only vaguely remembering how he got there. His clothes from the night before were laid over his chair neatly. On the nightstand there were two aspirin, a glass of water and a steaming cup of coffee.

_I love you, Sybil_ , Tom thought with a smile.

He gingerly pulled himself up and over to the side of the bed. He swallowed the aspirin with a long swig of water. Then, taking the coffee cup, he took a long drink and let out a deep sigh.

"Feeling better?"

He turned and saw his girlfriend freshly showered and dressed, her dark brown hair heavy from the water but starting to curl at the ends. She looked as radiant as the night they'd met in this very apartment three years before. The sight of her brought a smile to his face and cleared the fog of his hangover, at least slightly.

Sybil wasn't exactly happy with him, but she couldn't help but smile back seeing him so cutely tousled and bleary eyed.

"Top 'o the mornin' to ya," she said in her best Irish accent.

He laughed, then immediately regretted it and brought his hand to his forehead.

"It feels like a bomb went off in my head," he said with a groan.

"You were in quite a state—both of you," she said. She was still smiling but he could detect now a measure of humorlessness in her tone.

"Had to be a good stag. He's only going to get married once, right?" Tom said playfully.

"Not if he's hung over for his own wedding," Sybil replied crossing her arms, her irritation now obvious.

Tom sighed, turning back around and taking another drink of coffee.

"He's going to be fine, Syb."

"No thanks to you. I'm the one that got him home and in bed with no help from his best man."

Tom really didn't want to argue. He remembered now that she'd been angry last night, and he remembered hoping she would sleep it off. No such luck. Sensing the fight was going to be a long one, Tom stood and went over to his dresser and pulled on a T-shirt and sweats.

"I thought you were going to spend the night at the hotel with _the bride_ ," he said finally.

"That was the plan until you decided to get so bloody pissed, I had to drag you and Matthew back here to make sure you slept it off so you'd be ready for the actual wedding."

"We're grown men, Sybil. We would have managed. It's not like this is the first time we've gone out drinking."

"But it's Mary's wedding day! Do you really think she was going to risk a single detail not being in place?!"

At this, Tom turned to face her. "My darling, I do love you so much, but it's Mary and _Matthew's_ wedding day. More to the point it was _Matthew's_ stag night."

Sybil took a deep breath. "I understand that, but you promised me you'd have him at the hotel at a reasonable hour so we could see you before we were off to bed."

"I made no promises. I merely told you I would do my best."

"Well, your _best_ was a shoddy effort. You got there at nearly midnight! Mary made me bring you home, by the time you were both in bed and passed out, I was too tired to go back."

Tom's shoulders sank. He approached her slowly, but she turned away as he got near. "Sybil, I am genuinely sorry to have ruined your evening, but Matthew wanted to stay out and I wasn't going to tell him no. Your father was out with us and he said your mother told him not to worry. He was the one buying all the fecking whiskey!"

He put his hands on her shoulders and she stiffened at his touch.

Tom dropped his hands and took a deep breath. He was unsure of what to say.

Before he could muster any words, though, Matthew burst in the room and shouted, "Guess who's getting married!"

He stopped short seeing the two standing in close proximity. Laughing, he said, "This seems eerily familiar."

**XXX**

_The first time, in Matthew's room, was sex. It was good and it was fun and it held the promise of more, but it was sex. The second time, in Tom's room, they made love. Their phones had opened a window into the longing that each thought to be suffering alone._

_After, as they held each other tightly, Sybil asked, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"_

_"Well, at first I was with someone, and after that ended, I waited for you to ask me out again, but you didn't. In fact, you always seemed really shy around me and not eager to talk. I assumed you weren't interested and I thought maybe that first night, that conversation had been a fluke. And I'm not too proud to admit I am a bit afraid of Mary."_

_Sybil laughed. "Everyone is afraid of Mary."_

_She paused for a moment then went on, "I'm sorry for giving such a false impression. Meeting you, that talk we had . . . I think that was the best conversation I've ever had with anyone. Then_ she _showed up"—Tom laughed at the disdain with which he referred to his ex—"I thought I'd completely misread the entire situation. Since then, I've always second guessed myself when it came to you."_

_"I suppose I threw out my share of mixed signals, but you can hear me now, yeah?" Tom asked playfully._

_Sybil laughed. "Yes!"_

_They talked until the wee hours of the morning._

_When a newly engaged Matthew and Mary returned hoping to share their joy with two of the people they loved most, it was near lunchtime. On seeing Matthew's bed empty and made, they assumed Sybil had already gone home._

_Then, a funny series of events happened._

_As Mary dug into her handbag to look for her mobile to call her youngest sister, Matthew walked down the hall to Tom's room to waken his flatmate, doing so by opening the door wide and announcing loudly, "Guess who's getting married!"_

_Matthew was greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Tom and Sybil—he wearing only sweats, she only her knickers and an oversized T-shirt—wrapped in an intimate embrace and snogging like there was no tomorrow. They had just gotten out of bed and had been too wrapped up in themselves to hear anything outside of his room. Matthew laughed out loud, causing them to jump apart. Turning toward the hallway again, Matthew yelled out in a sing-song voice, "Oh, Mary!"_

_"Hold on, I'm calling Sybil," was her reply._

_The trio of Matthew and Tom and Sybil, the latter two holding hands, walked back out into the living room, but Mary was still looking down at her mobile, so she didn't notice that Matthew wasn't alone until Sybil's mobile—still on the floor where she'd dropped it the night before—started ringing, causing Mary's head to jerk up in surprise._

_"Hi, sis," Sybil said biting her lower lip._

_"I guess congratulations are in order," Tom said as nonchalantly as he could._

_The look of shock on Mary's face slowly dissipated. She looked from the new couple to her new fiancé, who was grinning widely._

_Mary, too happy herself to react to seeing her sister and Tom with anything else but more happiness, burst out laughing. "Congratulations all around, it seems."_

**XXX**

Tom and Sybil responded to Matthew's exuberance with mirthless smiles, but Matthew's joy was too much for him to notice.

"Going to have brunch with mum. Tom, I'll be back in a couple of hours. Sybil, I'll see you walking down the aisle!"

And just as quickly as he'd burst in, he was gone.

"See, he's fine," Tom said. "Everything is fine."

"Great, glad to know I worried for nothing," she said turning and heading toward the door.

"Sybil—"

"I have to get going."

"Stay. It's early yet."

"I have to start getting ready."

"It's 8:30. The wedding's not for another eight hours."

"My hair appointment is in half an hour. Then I have a manicure. Then my dress fitting—"

Tom should have known better, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes and, interrupting, said, "Does Mary realize you hate all that stuff?"

"It's her wedding!"

"Right—she's been dreaming about this since she was a little girl and it _has_ to be perfect. Never mind anyone else because if even one hair of yours is out of place, then her marriage is officially ruined."

Sybil let out a laugh. "Do you think insulting my sister is going to help you in this situation?"

"I'm not insulting Mary! I'm insulting the ridiculous notion of weddings that forces women to become slaves to this one fecking day above all others. I don't have a single female acquaintance, present company included, who says she's been planning her wedding since she was five, but for some reason everyone thinks that's true of all women and we allow this industry to impress on them an absurdly unattainable definition of perfection. If she and Matthew say I do, what else matters?! You agree with me on this, I know you do!"

Sybil sighed. "I do, but I wasn't looking for a feminist rant on weddings. I was looking for a little support from my boyfriend because even though all you said is true, my sister is still allowed to want a nice wedding, and I want to help make sure she has it, and yes, I'm stressed out beyond belief, but if it means she's happy today, then I don't care. I've put away my opinions for her sake. I'm sorry you find that disappointing and I'm sorry to be so disappointed in you, but you were supposed to call me last night and you didn't!"

"I told you, your mother said—"

"Whatever she said, she didn't tell me. I waited for your call."

"I did call!"

"No you didn't! Then you were late!"

Tom looked down at the floor with a sigh. After a moment, he walked over to his closet and took out his trainers. He quickly slipped them on and moved to walk out of the room. At the door, he turned back around and said, "Matthew's been my best friend for more than ten years and my flatmate for almost as long. He wanted to stay out late last night, and so we did. I want _him_ to have a nice wedding too. Your father said that your mother would tell you where we were. I don't know why she didn't. And I did call you, but if you want to insist otherwise, fine. I don't want to fight, so I'm going for a run. Lock up behind you."

As soon as Sybil heard the outside door slam shut, she burst into tears. She didn't know why was picking a fight with him, but the stress of the day, of the _event_ , had been building for so long that Tom ended up as the unlucky recipient of her pent up frustrations.

He was right, though. Sybil did hate weddings. Everything about them, in fact. But she also wanted to be a good sister, so when the planning began, she'd offered Mary and her mother some help, but "some help" somehow turned into Sybil becoming the go-between with the family and the rigid and humorless taskmaster they'd hired for a wedding planner, and Sybil was ready to pull her hair out. Tom had mentioned on more than one occasion that it wasn't fair that she, of all people, had ended up as the lackey for such a big event, especially given her opinions, but he'd been there when she'd needed him.

Until last night.

Sitting in the flat now, all alone, Sybil scolded herself for letting the stress get the better of her and for chastising him for simply wanting to spend time with his best friend on such a big occasion. He hadn't called her as promised, but he was drunk from toasting Matthew's happiness, so it was easy to see how he'd forget. That one oversight couldn't be the thing that ended their relationship, could it?

Sybil couldn't stop herself from wondering if this was it. That's what always happened in the past—an argument that led to stalemate, and then it was over. She thought with Tom things would be different. She wanted them to be different, but had she managed to ruin them just the same?

Eventually, the day had to be faced. After a few more minutes of lonely tears, Sybil freshened herself up as much as she could and headed to the salon where she would be meeting her sisters and mother to get pampered before the ceremony.

When she arrived, her mother was waiting for her in the lobby.

"There you are darling," Cora said pulling her daughter into a hug. "Mary and Edith have already started, but I thought I'd wait for you."

"Sorry I'm late."

"It's OK. Mary told me you were up late trying to get Tom and Matthew home. I should have known your father would keep them out too long. That was why I went to bed after he called. I told Mary, and she should have done the same. You, too."

Sybil's anger, which had subsided to a point, started boiling up again. She extracted herself from her mother's hug. "Why didn't you tell me? I was worried sick! Then I had to deal with making sure they went home."

Cora sighed. "Mary shouldn't have asked you to do that. I've told her repeatedly that everything will work itself out and it has. You've been so sweet to help her manage it all, but really Sybil you have to enjoy yourself too. What good is having a big wedding if we're not all happy?"

"What good is a big wedding period?" Sybil asked humorlessly.

Cora smiled. "I'm really am sorry, darling. I should have made sure you knew where they were and what their plans were, but I have something that will cheer you up."

"I doubt it very much," Sybil murmured to herself.

Cora opened her purse and rifled through it for a few minutes. "Aha!" She exclaimed, pulling out her mobile and handing it to Sybil.

Sybil looked at her with a skeptical expression. "You're giving me your mobile to cheer me up?"

"Go into my messages. Apparently, your dear Tom was so drunk last night he couldn't see straight. I can only assume he intended to call you but hit my name by mistake."

Sybil felt a tightening in her chest. He had called. Just as he said he did.

"Why does he even have your number on his mobile?"

"You probably put it there. I know you've called me from it before."

"Oh."

Sybil looked down at the device, then found the message and brought the phone to her ear, turning away from her mother to listen to it.

He wasn't quite slurring his words, but it was close. Certainly, she'd never heard him drunker.

_Hi, gorgeous . . . I love you. I just wanted to say that. I'm in the loo at the pub. Sorry for that but nowhere is quieter. Matthew is so happy—and so, so incredibly pissed right now. Don't tell Mary, but it's brilliant. I'm so chuffed right now to see him like this. He never lets himself get this plastered anymore. I guess he's a grown up person now and not an irresponsible fool like we used to be. I suppose I'm sort of responsible now too. Only for you though. Sometimes I wish you didn't think of me as your Mr. Right because I do so many things wrong, but really I just want to make you happy because you make me so happy. Do you know that? I want you to know it all the time because it's true. I love you, my darling Sybil. Crikey, this has gotten rather emotional, hasn't it? Whiskey turns me into an absolute bumbling fool! I've had far too much tonight. Can you believe your sister and my best mate are getting married?! Mam said I'm going to be crying like a baby tomorrow. I'm crying a bit right now . . . Anyway, there was a reason I called. What was it? I don't think it was to tell you that I loved you, which I do, I—RIGHT! So your dad talked to your mum and we're still coming by later, but it'll be much later. Or not at all. I don't know. All I know is Matthew doesn't want to leave yet. And I love you. That's something else I know. See you wh—_

Sybil turned back to her mother. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Messages can only be so long, and he reached the limit so it cut him off," Cora said, smiling at the sad and anxious look on her daughter's face. Cora stepped up to Sybil and wiped her tears, tears Sybil didn't even realize were streaming down her cheeks.

Embarrassed, she turned from her mother again, but Cora stopped her and pulled her into a hug. This time Sybil accepted her mother's comfort and let herself sob for several minutes.

"I'm glad to know he loves you so much," Cora said into her daughter's hair.

Calm now, and smiling, Sybil pulled away and sighed. "Me too."

**XXX**

He'd run for almost an hour, and he'd have kept going if he didn't know Matthew would be back in their flat soon. Well, _his_ flat. Next week, while Matthew and Mary were honeymooning in the south of France, the movers would come and take everything that was Matthew's away.

After getting back, and seeing that Matthew was still out, Tom ambled over to his room and fell back on his bed.

Yes, he was having a good time with his best friend last night, but he'd gotten absolutely plastered. Inappropriately and irresponsibly so. It hadn't been fair on her.

Yes, Mary was getting a bit wedding crazy, but instead of reacting with condescension the way he had, Sybil had reacted with kindness and patience. She'd done what a good sister would do. He'd hardly acted like "Mr. Right."

They often joked to one another about the names that they'd both kept on their contact lists. But secretly, he wondered—despite her assurances—whether he would ever really measure up. The life of a writer and journalist wasn't particularly glamorous or posh, and though he knew she didn't care about all of that, he wanted to make her proud.

Tom sat up again on the bed and looked around. There were traces of her all over the room now, but despite how close they'd become and despite the fact that in the past year they'd spent more nights together than apart, they still had their separate lives. He had been considering asking her to move in once Matthew had gone, but would she be willing to now?

"Want to talk about it?"

Tom turned and saw Matthew leaning against the doorjamb.

"I don't really need you to tell me when I've been an arse," Tom said with a laugh.

"She'll come around," Matthew said. "The wonderful thing about loving a Crawley woman is that no matter what happens, at the end of the day, they love too much to give up easily."

Tom sighed. "I hope you're right."

"I know I am, now stop with the moping! Nobody's allowed to be anything but sublimely happy today."

Tom laughed and stood. "So what do you want to do in your last hours of bachelorhood?"

"Would you think me stupid if I said just watch football and drink?"

"Drink?" Tom asked skeptically.

"Just beer—and we'll pace ourselves this time. Besides, we'll both need liquid courage for tonight."

"Can't argue with that."

**XXX**

She was a vision coming down the aisle.

Her hair was up in a neat knot just below her left ear, and the deep magenta dress Mary had chosen for her set off her delicate skin beautifully. She was smiling so brightly she was practically glowing. When she caught her mother's eye in the front pew, her smile momentarily turned into a grin. Then, it softened again as she looked over to Edith, already standing at the altar slightly off to the side.

She was only a few steps away when her eyes finally met his and in one look everything was forgiven.

She laughed slightly at something Matthew said to her as she passed him, then she stepped to the side and turned toward the pews again. The crowd stood to welcome Mary and Robert into the church. As the sound of the organ swelled and Mary and Robert began their march down the aisle, all eyes were on them.

All eyes save two.

Tom acknowledged that it might be poor form to be so obviously looking at a bridesmaid on such a moment, but he couldn't help it. He saw Sybil's eyes cloud over with tears as she watched her sister. Sybil looked down for a moment. Then, feeling his eyes on her, she turned toward him.

_I love you_ , she mouthed silently.

_Will you marry me?_

Sybil's eyes widened in shock. _What?_

_Will. You. Marry. Me?_

She gasped, but before she could muster any sort of response, Mary and their father's walk had ended, and Mary and Matthew stepped forward toward the pastor together, effectively blocking her view of Tom, who hadn't really planned on asking her that particular question at that particular moment. Years later, explaining to their children and grandchildren, what had happened, he'd say, "I realized just then that I wanted to be her husband, and I needed her to know that as soon as possible."

**XXX**

The ceremony had felt like it lasted an eternity. Sybil could be forgiven for not having heard a word of it. When it was over and she and Tom finally— _finally_ —came together to walk back down the aisle and out of the church together, he looked at her expectantly.

"So?" He whispered as she took his arm.

"Yes, but on one condition," she whispered back.

"Anything."

She looked at him from the side of her eyes. "Would you hate me terribly if I said I wanted to elope?"

Tom couldn't help but laugh. "Darling, I would love you more."


End file.
